A Wicked First Date
by Serenitychan13
Summary: Spencer kept the young lady's number and now, three days later, he's making the fateful phone call, with a little help from his friends. Morgan can be a mean, mean SOB! Now they're going to see a show! And gelato! Contains an OC - don't like, don't read.
1. Morgan is a WIcked Man

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of the characters on the show. I do own Dr. Lorraine Quinn. If you want to borrow her, please ask me. I don't do entertaining disclaimers – the entertainment is the fic!_**

**_Author's Note: Yes, I'm doing a whole series on Reid bonding with this young lady. _**

A Wicked First Date

Ch. 1 – Morgan is a Wicked Man

"All right, I'll see you all back here in thirty minutes."

Hotch had let them all go for a break and Spencer Reid had spent the first ten minutes of that pacing the empty briefing office. A rather tattered piece of paper rested in his left hand. It had been in his pocket for three days. In his right hand, he turned his cell phone over and over, not flipping it open. When _she _had first pressed that piece of paper into his hand, he was stunned. Of course he'd had no intention of taking her up on the dry cleaning offer. He guessed it wasn't her fault that her dog had just done what he was bred to do. But if he didn't want his sweater un-stained, why was he doing this?

For three days, the choice topic of conversation had been "When is Spencer going to call that girl?" He had been forced to endure variations of that question every time someone made eye contact with him. In three days, he had not gone back to the Espresso Hut. It wasn't that he would ever admit it, but the prospect of setting foot in there again frightened him. So why, why on earth had he kept that number with him? Logically, shouldn't he want never to see _her _again? That coffee break had been a certifiable disaster.

He stared at his phone again, as if he expected it to just type in the number on its own and call _her _for him. Hopefully, his imagination went on, this all-of-a-sudden sentient phone would be able to handle the ensuing conversation. His eyes found the wall clock. He had precisely eighteen minutes left in the break. Feeling rather like he might throw up spectacularly, he flipped his phone open, stared at the number pad, and then shut it again. He had sunk so deep into this contemplation that he didn't notice the glass door open and shut.

"Kid, what-"

"Ah!" Reid started, dropping his phone.

Morgan stared at him as though he had grown a tail – a combination of open curiosity and concern. Spencer rolled his eyes and retrieved his cellular apparatus, grinding his teeth a little. He tried too late to hide the piece of paper in his hand but Morgan's sharp eyes had caught it in an instant.

"Are you freaking serious?" demanded the older man. "You're playing the 'call her/don't call her' game? What are you, in middle school?"

"What's middle school?" Reid shot back sarcastically. "I graduated high school at-"

"Twelve, I know," Morgan cut him off. "You know, that's when the rest of us were discovering that girls don't have cooties."

Spencer narrowed his eyes and managed to avoid crumpling the piece of paper in irritation.

"I think I managed to miss the whole "cooties" thing too," he grumbled. "I hate to be short with you, but could you either leave or help me out here?"

Annoyingly enough, there stood Derek Morgan, laughing out loud. Spencer reddened about the face once more. He felt like his face would never return to a shade resembling human skin again! For lack of anything constructive to do, he returned to staring at the coffee-stained, rumpled piece of paper. Then he turned his eyes to his cell phone. Morgan continued to stare.

"Help you out?" he repeated. "Okay, you just went from middle school to teenage girl."

"You're not helping!" yelped Reid, face dangerously close to purple.

Morgan rolled his eyes, and then reached out to remove Spencer's cell phone from his hand.

"Okay, here, why don't you let _me _call her?" he teased, causing Spencer to yelp again and attempt to fight for his phone. Morgan held the thinner man off easily at the length of one arm. "Oh, don't get mad, I'll be nice!"

"Just give me my phone back and let me make my call in peace!" whined Spencer. "There's only fourteen minutes left in the break!"

Morgan tossed the cell phone up in the air and Spencer snatched it back, holding it protectively.

"Do you seriously need adult supervision?" Morgan deliberately provoked the younger man.

Prentiss, who had been silently watching this performance through the glass door for more than a moment, finally decided to intervene. She shoved the door open and the two men swung around to look at her. Standing there with hands on hips, she stared three kinds of death at Morgan. All of a sudden, before she even spoke, he looked as guilty as a schoolboy.

"Jesus, Derek, leave him alone, will you?" she ordered more than asked.

Spencer mouthed a silent "_thank you_" from over Morgan's shoulder, and then glanced up at the clock again – twelve minutes left. Well, the moment had come – it was time to be a man, flip that phone open, and ask _her _out. No more avoiding it. He took a deep breath, visibly squared his shoulders, and tried hard to ignore the peanut gallery. Morgan tried hard to control his laughter, broad shoulders shaking as he clamped a hand over his mouth. Shooting his surrogate brother a dirty look, the child prodigy opened his cell phone.

Even Prentiss had to summon every ounce of self-control she ever thought about having not to laugh. There stood Spencer Reid, staring at his open cell phone as if it were a ticking bomb. Slowly, mechanically, glancing compulsively at the piece of paper in his other hand, he dialed the number. But just before his thumb could hit the 'call' button, all activity ceased and he turned white. Swallowing again as if he might vomit, he looked back and forth from Morgan to Prentiss with darting eyes. His shoulders fell.

"I can't do it," he sighed. "This whole thing is ridiculous."

This time, Prentiss rolled her eyes.

"Hit that 'call' button before I hit it for you," she commanded. Spencer made a whining noise, so she continued, "Do you want the whole team to walk in here _while _you're making the call?"

Spencer's eyes shot wide open and, before he could think this through or stop himself or do anything rational, his thumb twitched. For a second, time seemed to stop. Then he heard the other end of the line ringing and his entire body seemed to freeze from the inside. Both Morgan and Prentiss saw the look that flashed across his face – the look that said "_dear lord, what have I done?_" The other end rang once, twice, three times, and then…

"Hello, this is Dr. Lorraine Quinn's cell phone," said a recording. "I'm either with a client or I'm not at my-"

Reid flinched at the loud beep that cut off the recording.

"This is Dr. Quinn, sorry about that!" panted the out-of-breath voice. "To whom am I speaking?"

Spencer's jaw worked soundlessly for a second as he felt his throat closing up uncomfortably.

"This is Dr. Lorraine Quinn, can I help you?" the voice on the other end tried again, sounding inquisitive.

An amused smile played around Prentiss's mouth and Morgan had to hold his nose to keep from breaking into hysterical laughter. Truly, they both wanted him to succeed, but the way he went about things was too funny! Spencer turned his back on both of them and hunched his shoulders over to try again.

"Uh, yes, this is Dr. Spencer Reid," he ventured uncertainly. "I don't know if you remember-"

Spencer glared daggers over his shoulder at the snort that escaped Morgan's shaking hold.

"- but we met the other day?" he finished. The 'ramble' neurons in his brain overtook his mouth, but before he could settle in for a nice long word-barrage…

"Oh hi!" came that chipper voice again. He found himself reminded of conversing with Garcia and it eased his mind a bit. His shoulders un-tensed a little bit as she continued. "Yeah, I remember! I completely meant what I said about the dry-cleaning, by the way. I promise you, Hawkeye _never _does things like-"

He couldn't help laughing – she apparently had a 'ramble' center in her brain too – and his laugh cut her off.

"No, no, it's not about that!" he assured her – she could hear the smile in his voice. "But, um… I did keep your number, obviously, and I got curious and I wondered if… uh…"

His throat stopped up on him again – how was he supposed to ask her out if his larynx decided to go on strike every time the subject entered his brain! Morgan had almost lost control entirely, intermittent laughs escaping behind his hand. Even Prentiss couldn't help letting a giggle or two out. Normally, Emily Prentiss did _not _giggle, but watching her surrogate little brother ask a girl out… Well, it was just worth a giggle. Spencer wanted, once again, to assume a liquid form and leak down the nearest floor drain.

"If… um…" he continued valiantly. The next string of words tumbled from his mouth as the contents of his stomach continued threatening to do. "Ifmaybeyou'dliketogodosomethingthis… uh… weekend?"

"Really? 'Go _do _something?'" echoed Morgan, finally unable to contain himself, tears of laughter just this side of streaming down his cheeks. "You didn't even have an _idea_! Dude!"

Prentiss smacked him hard on the shoulder – Reid glared full-size swords at the two of them.

"Um… Who's that?" the voice on the other end of the phone inquired.

If looks could kill, Spencer Reid would be the easiest unsub the BAU ever brought in.

"Oh! Nobody!" he tried to laugh, hoping it didn't sound as psychotic to her as it did to him. "It's just… uh… the television's on!"

"Uh-huh." He could tell she didn't believe him. "So anyway, yes."

"Oh God, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called-" he started to ramble, but she cut him off.

"Dude, you don't have to apologize, I said yes!" she yelled into the phone, causing him to hold the apparatus a foot away from his head.

Morgan stared. Prentiss gave both of them an '_I told you so_' look. Reid looked like he might have just gone into cardiac arrest. First his face dropped all hint of color, but then it reappeared with a vengeance. Prentiss noted that not many people could achieve that wide a color range on one face. He had taken on a peculiar, splotched appearance.

"You did?" he finally choked out. "I mean, hey, that's great! So… what did you have in mind?"

Prentiss stared with her mouth open. Morgan smacked one hand audibly to his forehead. Garcia giggled hysterically on the other side of the glass door, watching the proceedings and covering the mouthpiece on her own phone. What? She couldn't resist – the boy wonder asking a girl on a date was just too good _not _to hack into! Spencer again felt the intense desire to, how they say, drop dead.

"Um… I dunno, what did you want to do?" she volleyed back cheerfully. When she got silence so thick that she could hear it, she suppressed her own giggle. "I mean, I do have an idea. D'you like musicals?"

Spencer had no idea how to answer that, so his brain went on autopilot.

"Well, I had the opportunity to see _La Nozze de Figaro_ at the Met a few years ago, but other than that-"

He held the phone away from his head again at the squeal she let loose into her end of the device.

"_I played Susannah in college!_" she all but screamed. Then her volume returned to normal and her speed of speech increased about a thousand-fold. "But no, I've actually got a couple of tickets to _Wicked_! There's a traveling company performing through next weekend and my tickets are for opening night this Friday evening! Would you like to go? Have you read the book? I only got through about half of it and-"

"S-sure!" spluttered Reid, before he really knew what he was agreeing to. "That sounds great!"

_I think_, his mind supplied belatedly – Morgan snorted loudly again and now Prentiss had her hand firmly over her mouth. Then he noticed Garcia, now practically howling with laughter, and nearly dropped the phone. He missed the first few words of what Dr. Quinn said next.

"- after that?" she asked. He had no idea what she just said, so he figured it to be polite if he just agreed. "Wow! Okay, that's great! It's opening night, so I think we're supposed to dress nice! I'll see you at five on Friday then!"

Still not sure of what he had just gotten himself into, Reid said his okays, his thank-you, and a quick 'bye. Dr. Quinn squeaked another "Awesome!" and a "See ya then!" Then the line went dead. He let out a gigantic breath that made him reconsider his maximum lung capacity. For a split second, it seemed all had become right in the world. Then the nausea returned. He had just called her girl to ask for a date. Then _she _had ended up doing the actual _asking_, and he had no idea where they were going after, but he said yes! What kind of and FBI agent was he, to get himself into messes like this!

"Kid, I have never seen anybody who attracts as much trouble as you do!" Morgan finally exclaimed, through peals of laughter. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"

"Actually… no," Reid deflated visibly. He stared from one amused face to the next, then the next. "Well now what do I do?"

Morgan didn't answer, or rather, couldn't answer as another bout of diaphragm-powered laughter shook his whole body. Garcia had just flat-out leaned against the wall beside the glass door, convulsing with hysteria. Spencer looked very much like a middle-school boy who didn't quite know what to do. Finally, Prentiss took pity on him and held out a hand.

"Come on, sit with me," she told him, not leaving an option for saying 'no'. "We'll give your closet a run-through after work and see if you have anything that qualifies as 'opening night' nice."

"You think she realizes how loud she is?" asked Morgan, finally getting himself under some semblance of control. "We could both hear a good half of that conversation."

Reid ground his teeth together, causing Prentiss to pinch him – she hated the sound of people grinding their teeth.

"So, do you know what to, like, _do_ on a date?" Morgan pressed on, affecting the speech of a teenage girl and finally provoking Reid to fling a pen at him. He ducked easily. "Like, you know?"

"That's enough," Prentiss snapped. Then she looked up at the clock. "Well, break time's almost up. Reid, you and I have a date after work, and Morgan, you may want to, _like_, go take your foot out of your mouth, _you know_?"

Morgan opened his mouth to retaliate, but Hotch walked in, the look on his face announcing without words that he would brook no nonsense. They'd had their break and it was once again work time. JJ followed closely, bearing an armful of printer paper and several folders. Garcia all but hobbled in, still giggling and wiping purple eyeliner off her cheeks. Rossi, who had heard her outburst, strode in after, chortling to himself.

The team chattered a bit as they settled back into their chairs for the purpose of resuming their conference. Seeing as there were three minutes left in the break, Spencer – still nearly violet – excused himself to refill his coffee thermos. As he strode down the hall, he stared at his phone in a mix of wonder and fear. Had it somehow been the phone's fault, the disastrous call? He nearly dropped the thing again as it buzzed, almost jumping from his hand. It was a text from, predictably enough, Morgan.

"_If you need help, let me know,_" the text read.

Reid growled and had to exercise real self-control to keep from stomping the rest of the way to the coffee machine. He took a bit more time than he normally would have, and that was saying something, in refilling his thermos. In a bit of a deviation, he loaded the thing down with cream – vanilla-flavored – and sugar. This time, he skipped the artificial sweetener and went for a few of those "sugar in the raw" packets that JJ had brought in. He emptied six of them into the thermos and stirred madly.

He screwed the lid back on the metal thermos and turned smartly on his heel. Jetting back down the hall at top speed, he felt like a car on two wheels as he flung the glass door open and hot-footed it back into the conference room. Where had all of this extra energy come from? He all of a sudden felt like his red blood cells carried helium instead of oxygen. His faded navy Converses barely touched the floor, it seemed! And was it possible that he heard the Beatles in his head?

Normally the picture of perfect attention and studiousness, notebook and pencil ready to go, he couldn't help staring out the window at the cloudy day. Wait a second, was that sunshine? On a cloudy day? He shook his head and picked up his pencil, but instead of taking notes, he poked at a crumpled corner. Hotch went on about… what were they even talking about anymore? Where had his attention span gone?

Something about a new policy from the higher-ups, Hotch continued on, pretending he didn't notice Reid's glazed eyes. But Garcia's renewed giggling soon had everyone off-track again. Morgan reached into his pocket for his phone, hiding it under the conference table. _Really? _Prentiss thought as she noticed – he was picking on Reid, but he had the nerve to pull _that _old trick?

"_I… was… serious…_" Morgan typed in, hoping Hotch wouldn't notice.

Reid ignored the buzzing of his own cell, but he caught Morgan's eye and got the message anyway.


	2. A Wicked Pain in my Hand

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of the characters on the show. I do own Dr. Lorraine Quinn. If you want to borrow her, please ask me. I don't do entertaining disclaimers – the entertainment is the fic!_**

**_Author's Note: Lorraine will become less of a spaz as the whole thing goes on, I promise._**

A Wicked First Date

Ch. 2 – A Wicked Pain in my Hand

Prentiss had kept her word about helping Spencer get ready for his date. Immediately after work, they had gone back to his apartment and she had tossed his closet from top to bottom. She found herself totally shocked at the volume of _stuff_ that exploded from the comparatively small space at her. Prints that made her eyes hurt and fabrics that should have died in the '90s… Ugh, this had shaped out to be harder than she would have thought.

First, she had to tell him that no, jeans were not acceptable. No, it didn't matter that they were '_really nice jeans_'. He felt another sweater-vest would be inviting disaster – she decided not to ask on that one and pulled a nice suit jacket out. He hadn't worn it in quite some time, but she thumped the dust off it and had him try it on. Surprisingly enough, where it had hung loose round his shoulders a few years ago, it fit him decently well this time around. She took the T-shirt out of his hand, almost surprised he owned T-shirts. Then she pulled a nice-looking brick-red button-down out and told him "Wear this." He nodded silently and set the shirt on the back of his desk chair.

"Spencer, do you own any shoes besides those awful Converses?" she demanded, kicking through some debris in the bottom of the closet. "Like, maybe some dress shoes?"

"I… don't think so?" He wracked his brains. "Well, there's a NEW pair of Converses in that box in the back. These are more comfortable though. I always wear them until they wear out."

Prentiss rolled her eyes.

"Well you're not wearing those, so get the new ones out." She would brook no nonsense from her almost-brother. He'd had enough mishaps, and she felt it was high time he found a reason to be happy. He would have fun on this date and it would go perfectly if it killed him! Then he opened the box and she thought she might faint. "You have… _got _to be joking."

Plaid. They were _plaid._ Of all the colors, prints, designs, or shapes of Converses he could have pulled out of that box, they had to be _plaid._ So far, he actually had a decent outfit going. But then _those _things glared back into her field of vision. She sent him into his bathroom to try on the full outfit, just so she wouldn't have to look at _them_.

"Well, how do I look?" he asked timidly, inching out of the bathroom about three minutes later.

She looked him up and down. They'd managed to find the slacks that went with the dark gray suit jacket, so that looked just fine. The brick-red button-down shirt had been a good find – Prentiss tried not to look too pleased. She didn't guess he really _needed _a tie, not with the rest of the outfit so sharp. It wasn't like they were going to opening night on Broadway, after all. But then she got a look at the gigantic plaid abominations sticking out at the bottoms of his slacks. A mishmash of yellow, blue, and green stripes – it was like Ralph Lauren had gotten sick on a pair of Chuck Taylors.

"Are you _sure _you don't have any other shoes?" she all but pleaded.

"Is there something wrong with these?" he asked her, his voice polite with no trace of sarcasm. "I can wear the blue ones."

"Uh…" Prentiss wondered whether to be honest or kind in this case. She wrinkled her nose in thought, but decided to err on the side of kindness. Anyway, from the way he described the young lady, she might not mind the atrocious shoes. "No… No, they're fine."

Spencer beamed at her, and then scuttled back into the bathroom to change back into his regular clothes. When he emerged, shuffling his socks on the carpet, he looked puzzled and wrong-footed again. Emily tilted her head at him and asked what he thought.

"Well, I've never really been much for… _dating_," he finally admitted. "It's not that I… well, I mean, I've been on _dates_ but…"

"I know," she said before he had to finish. She did know what he meant – working in the BAU didn't exactly leave much time for socializing. Morgan had his bar scene, but everyone knew about his commitment issues. It made sense that Reid had very little interest in the club-and-bar-trawling gig. So it made equal sense that he hadn't much experience in the dating world. "But you're going to be fine."

Reid smiled at her again and thanked her for her help. She smiled back, told him "Don't mention it," and bid him a good evening as he walked her to the door. As they said "see you later," she reassured him again, and then he went back in his apartment. He unbuttoned his work shirt and trousers, neglected to throw them in the hamper, and settled down to watch cartoons in his underwear. It was childish, but he needed it tonight.

* * *

><p>Friday arrived sooner than Spencer wanted to think about. Thursday had passed easily enough. He had been able to immerse himself fully in Hotch's policy lectures, taking meticulous notes and ignoring Morgan. But Friday… Oh hell, where had Friday gone? He hoped Hotch hadn't said anything too terribly important, because he had no idea what had gone on all day. Before he knew it, Morgan had hold of his shoulder and continued teasing him jovially. Somehow, he wound up back on the Metro and back in his apartment with little memory of how he got there, eidetic or no.<p>

"She said meet at five."

At least he remembered that much. They had been let off at 3, since it was Friday and nothing but policy lectures. A few phone calls back and forth to cement details had been necessary but he figured he had the plan now. They would meet at the Metro station near her office and go from there. The train ride promised to be hell on wheels, but that was normal. Curtain didn't go up until 6:45, but she insisted on getting there by 6:15. He had no idea what they point of getting there half an hour early was, but figured she knew.

He felt the oddest sensation that time today had been moving forward in sudden chunks, like someone hitting a fast-forward button. First, he was just scarfing down some canned ravioli in lieu of dinner, not heating it first. Then it was almost like he was watching himself on television, tripping over a chair. Before he could really sort anything else out, he found himself pacing around beside a bench. He had gotten to the Metro station all right, but barely remembered the bus trip. All his nervous habits seemed to attack him at once. His new plaid Converses shuffled on the dirty pavement and his fingernail dug into his ear. He ground his teeth and shoved his other hand deep in his pocket before taking it back out.

"Dr. Reid?" he could swear he heard someone call his name, so he looked over his shoulder. "DR. REID!"

A cloud of red hair and black satin, plus a flash of silver, barreled through the crowd toward him. Mercifully, she had left the dog at home, but when she drew level with him, he noticed several white hairs on the black satin. He couldn't help looking her up and down and saying "… um, wow!" Dr. Quinn's bright red lips split in a bright smile and she giggled, posing adorably for a moment.

"You like it?" she asked by way of greeting. "I figured I'd stay in theme!"

He simply nodded mutely, trying not to be too obvious about gulping a bit. Theme, she hadn't mentioned a theme! But then he figured whatever problem Prentiss had with his shoes could be ignored now. Dr. Quinn wore black-and-white horizontally striped stockings and silver heels. He smiled at her uniqueness and brought his eyes back to her face. Green eyelids blinked back at him, flashing bold black liner. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had filed away that women liked when men noticed their clothes and makeup. She seemed unable to stop dancing in place, her satin skirt rustling. When she turned a bit, he caught a hint of white lace at the hem.

"You know, we should probably get on first-name terms," she interrupted his observation. "Otherwise we'll never get past the weather! So you can call me Lorraine!"

"Then… uh… you can call me Spencer!" he tried to echo her own brightness and cringed at how it made him sound – crazy. "So, I… have to be honest, I have no idea what Wicked is about."

If this dampened her spirits at all, Dr. Quinn, no… Lorraine didn't show it – if anything her smile turned brighter.

"Oh! You'll love it! You've seen Wizard of Oz, right?" she asked, and without waiting for an answer, she continued, "Well _Wicked _is basically the real story of the witches of Oz. What you have to remember is to keep Wizard of Oz separate from _Wicked_. Some of the characters are the same, but you have to keep in your head that Wizard of Oz is Dorothy's dream – _Wicked _is what really happened!"

Spencer stared – if the rest of the team saw this young lady ramble in almost exactly the same fashion that he did, he would never hear the end of it! He couldn't help smiling, even if he only understood maybe every third word. She hadn't actually mentioned what the show was about, but somehow, it didn't really matter. Plus, musicals were usually pretty self-explanatory. She continued chattering to him and he caught a couple of character names. But soon enough, the Metro showed up.

"Shall we?" Spencer prompted as the doors opened. Lorraine practically sparkled and she hurried ahead of him onto the train.

"This is my second time seeing Wicked!" she informed him. "But I'm sorry to just chat your ear off. So… what do you do, as a profiler?"

He hadn't been prepared for such an abrupt change of subject, so he blanched just a bit.

"Well, the bottom line is to figure out who the unsub… err, that's unknown subject – the suspect – is, based on what they've already done," he was used to talking about his job to groups of college students, not women he was dating. "Hopefully before anybody else gets hurt."

"So, wait, what do you mean before anyone _else _gets hurt?" Then realization swept over her face – he couldn't remember seeing someone so expressive. "You mean… serial killers?"

Reid nodded.

"Intense!" Lorraine almost whispered. "Have you ever been hurt?"

She was not a beat-around-the-bush type of person. If he was honest with himself, he found it refreshing, even if it made him a touch uncomfortable. But why did it make him uncomfortable? It was normal, in their line of work, to build up some emotional walls, and he was an avoidant personality by nature.

"Yes, I have," he said without too much or too little emotion. "A couple of times, actually."

Lorraine went quiet for a moment, visibly processing this information.

"So, d'you travel with your job?" she asked, the unpleasant subject matter apparently better off momentarily forgotten.

Now this was an easier subject. Even with all the horrible things he had seen in his life and line of work, he had certainly been to some beautiful places.

"Yes, I do!" He brightened visibly. "Do you like to travel?"

She nodded, not bothering to yell over the noise of the Metro as more people packed on at the next stop. For the rest of the ride, they stood beside each other in companionable silence. At the third stop, a rather large woman pushed her way onto the train and Lorraine's right heel turned. Reflexively, Spencer stuck his arm out and caught her round the waist before she pitched over. Both their faces turned pink as she looked up at him.

"Thanks for that!" she grinned at him, and then sucked some lipstick off her front teeth. "You're pretty strong, huh?"

Spencer turned rose-colored and watched the windows of the Metro.

"Well, you're light, so…" He trailed off, for the first time actually smiling _at _her. He blushed even darker as she hugged him impulsively. "Um, our stop is coming up soon, right?"

Lorraine pouted, but the pout disappeared so quickly that only a profiler like Spencer could have caught it. Was she disappointed that he had changed the subject? She nodded, again choosing not to scream over the noise of the Metro. The large woman bearing down on both of them had pulled out her cell phone and had begun an extremely loud conversation with… It sounded like Eluvia. So the two of them sank back into silence – Spencer kicked himself for ruining the mood.

Finally, the train lurched to a stop and the speaker said something about "Foggy Bottom." Lorraine looked up – he stood a good foot taller than her – and took Spencer's hand. He looked surprised, but she told him "Come on, this is us!" and tugged at him to move him along. The loud, large cell-phone conversationalist gave them a collective dirty look as they brushed past her. Feeling a bit more at ease, Lorraine smiled at Spencer, for the moment keeping her mouth shut. Spencer took a giant step forward, almost causing Lorraine to collide with a mega-stroller.

"What was that for?" she yelped, hopping on one heel to avoid the mother, who glared.

"I hate roaches," replied Spencer, shivering. Lorraine scrunched her nose and made a '_yuck_' sound. "So, do you know how to get to the Kennedy Center from here?"

Lorraine nodded, and then looked around.

"The shuttle's over there – see?" She pointed at a cluster of people in formalwear. "You ready? I promise you'll love the show!"

She had a tendency to ask questions then exclaim something before he had a chance to answer. When he raised an eyebrow at her, she blushed brilliantly – it was adorable to see. Not to mention, he rather enjoyed watching someone other than himself vasodilate.

"Sorry!" she apologized. "I kinda yap a lot when I get nervous. I swear I'm not this much of a spaz… So please don't profile me as a head case!"

After staring at her for half a second, Spencer couldn't help laughing out loud!

"Hey, it's okay." He smiled – he could breathe a little easier with her openly admitting to being nervous. "If I can be honest, I'm… a little nervous too."

The tension visibly melted out of Lorraine's shoulders and she grinned at him, the same grin he had seen when she apologized for Hawkeye's misbehavior. He looked down to see she hadn't let go of his hand since they got off the train. When she noticed him watching her, Lorraine's eyes widened.

"Was I not supposed to do that?" she asked quietly. "Should I let go?"

A crowd of people jostled the two of them.

"Well, you don't have to." He wasn't sure how to answer that. But he liked that her first reaction was to ask. "I hope my hands aren't sweaty. Whereas you express nervous feelings with potentially excessive verbalization, I… sweat. It's a normal reaction to stressful situation in both men and women-"

"I know," she cut him off, giggling. "No, you're not sticky or anything."

He smiled in relief, thanked her, and let her lead him to stand with the crowd of formally-dressed people over by the shuttle stop. A teenage girl sang "The Wizard and I", much to her friends' chagrin. Two men wearing pastel shirts with their nearly-identical suits smiled at the girl. Lorraine chewed on her lower lip, raking lipstick off with her teeth.

Another of the teenagers pointed at the nearest corner, where the shuttle had just turned right. A third young lady clamped a hand over the singing girl's mouth as her volume escalated and a brief wrestling match ensued. Lorraine giggled at the girls and then looked up at Sheldon. He could see something in her eyes that looked like reminiscence. Switching their positions so that now he held her hand, he helped her into the shuttle.

"Such a gentleman!" she commented with a short giggle. "I've never actually had a guy help me into a shuttle bus before."

The bus ride didn't take terribly long. Lorraine watched out the windows quietly, her excitement growing tangibly. No really, Spencer could feel her practically vibrating with anticipation. In the cramped space, jammed up against each other, he couldn't help noticing how truly small she was. He could feel her hip bone through the fluffy petticoat under her dress. As the shuttle rounded another corner and caught one tire in a pothole, her elbow jammed into his ribs. She had the sharpest elbows of anyone he had ever met!

"Ouch!"

"Sorry about that," she apologized quickly. "Stupid lousy roads."

Then she went quiet again as the shuttle pulled up in front of the Kennedy Center. The teenage girl had started to sing again. Despite noisy protests from her friends, she belted "Wonderful" at the top of her voice. Spencer raised an eyebrow at the gaggle and caught the singing girl's eye by accident. The whole cluster of them started to giggle and point, teasing their friend. Lorraine laughed as well, looking from the group of girls to Spencer and back. People started to file off the bus.

Somehow, Spencer and Lorraine ended up stuck behind the group of teenage girls, who were still trying to restrain their overexcited friend. The foursome pushed and shoved, ignoring the mother's half-hearted admonition – "_Girls!_" Spencer couldn't help smiling as the singing girl caught his eye again and tumbled off the bus with her friends. Lorraine smiled too, and when he saw this, he could guess they were smiling about the same thing. Again, he took the lead and extended his hand to help her off the bus.

Lorraine took one step down, fully intent on being graceful, but her shoes had other plans. The left one turned uncomfortably and when she tried to catch herself, the right one slipped down her heel. She pitched forward with a short but earsplitting yell, expecting gravity to take over from there. But for the second time that night, she collided with Spencer. It took her a moment to realize she was no longer touching solid ground and her right shoe hung off her toes. Carefully, he set her down, letting her hold his arm as she got her shoe back on.

"Are you okay?" he asked, not teasing.

She blushed and stared at the ground, smiling at his horrid shoes.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she mumbled. And she tucked a curl of red hair behind her ear as she set off for the Center's front door. Spencer matched her stride easily, but had no idea how someone so small could push through crowds like she did! A couple of times, he lost sight of her, but then her hair bobbed up again. Finally, he used his "FBI voice" to move past a cluster of blue-haired ladies. This time, he took her hand, guiding her decisively toward an usher in the lobby.

"May I see your ticket?" asked the elder gentleman in the crisp, clean uniform

Spencer let go of Lorraine's hand and she fished around in her clutch purse for a second before extracting the tickets and handing them over. The uniformed gent inspected them momentarily, handed them back, and directed them to the left-side orchestra section. Lorraine and Spencer both thanked the man as they proceeded with the crowd in the indicated direction. Spencer let Lorraine ahead of him and followed her into row M. Lorraine seemed dazzled by everything around her, the interior of the Center and the lights and the ceiling. Spencer stared at the gigantic dragon that spanned the width of the stage. People chattered around them, rifling through programs and arranging their belongings as they sat.

"Great seats, huh?" Lorraine finally broke their mutual silence.

Spencer started a bit and turned to look at her – she didn't have to tell him she couldn't hear terribly well out of one ear, even if he couldn't tell which one.

"What's with the dragon?" he asked, forgetting to comment about the seats. "There wasn't a dragon in the Wizard of Oz."

Lorraine looked up at the stage.

"It's the Time Dragon," she explained. Spencer's brow furrowed – she could guess he wasn't used to having things explained to him. "What you have to remember is that _Wicked_ is a bit different from Wizard of Oz. We're supposed to get that _Wicked _is the real story. So some of the details aren't going to line up."

If any of this confused the genius Spencer Reid, he gave no outward indication.

"Curtain goes up in five minutes!" exclaimed Lorraine.

Spencer had to admit, for a glorified fan fiction, _Wicked _was a brilliant stage show – fast-paced and bright. Odd as it might seem to some, he saw himself in Elphaba, the gifted outsider. The young lady's voice rang to the rafters as she ended "The Wizard and I." He wasn't sure if he would ever be able to watch the Wizard of Oz again after this experience. Stealing a glance over at Lorraine, he saw her staring raptly at the stage, her mouth moving along with every word.

Thankfully, it was pretty self-explanatory which characters in _Wicked_ translated to which characters in the original. "Dancing Through Life" could have just as easily been written for Fred Astaire, he decided. He smiled as Boq sped around the dance floor with Nessa in her chair. Galinda, with the "_guh_", had caused him to wrinkle his nose up until "Popular." However, he couldn't help thinking a bit of Garcia at the amount of _pink _surrounding the young Good Witch.

The party at the OzDust Ballroom wound down and Galinda and Elphaba bonded. It had been so sweet when Galinda went out on the dance floor, putting herself equal with the beautifully tragic green girl. If he wasn't mistaken, he heard Lorraine sniffle a bit. As Fiyero inevitably went off with Galinda, the stage lights dimmed and the music turned soft and sad. This time, there could be no mistaking it – Lorraine had her hand over her mouth to stifle her sound. He couldn't see her face. Elphaba started to sing.

"_Hands touch/ eyes meet/ Sudden silence/ sudden heat"_

Lorraine sniffled again and looked away from the stage. She picked up her clutch purse and fiddled through it for a moment. He couldn't tell what she had taken out of it. The song continued, making his throat catch just a little. Spencer looked around furtively and leaned over.

"What's wrong?" he whispered.

"… nothing," said Lorraine's small, choked voice.

He didn't bother correcting her, but he set his hand on top of hers – she had been clutching the arm rest in a white-knuckled grip. She swallowed audibly, hiccupped, and sniffled again. But after a moment, her hand twisted around to hold onto his. And all of a sudden, he had five pythons... no, she just had a really strong grip. There wasn't really much he could do about it either, because as Elphaba hit a crescendo, Lorraine doubled over in her seat, crying quietly. Spencer just gritted his teeth and turned his eyes back to the stage.

* * *

><p>"<em>Who can say if I've been changed for the better?<em>" sang Galinda, her ringing soprano voice starting the finale of the show.

Lorraine hadn't let go of Spencer's hand once for over an hour. Her grip had changed strengths and angles, but never released. Spencer's attention kept going back and forth from the stage to her face. She wasn't just watching the show or listening to it – Lorraine _felt _every word, every note. Spencer couldn't help choking up himself just a little at one part or another. He even gasped audibly as the shadow of Dorothy threw the bucket of water on the Witch. Lorraine turned a tear-streaked face toward him, smiled wetly, and mouthed '_just watch_'.

The whole audience sat on pins and needles as the trap door opened and a green face peered out. Spencer relaxed, grinning from ear to ear as the Scarecrow emerged from hiding. Lorraine's tears returned as the two decided the impossible. One, they could never return to Oz, and two, that Galinda could never know that they were alive. Spencer returned the squeeze Lorraine gave his hand, though he couldn't feel his fingers all that well. Elphaba and Fiyero escaped to his family's castle, the Scarecrow's knees giving way for a second.

As the music trailed off and the curtain closed, Lorraine leaped out of her seat and pounded her hands together with a joyous yell. Spencer joined her, the still-audible teenage girls, and the rest of the audience in a standing ovation. He turned to Lorraine to comment, but shut his mouth. Her cheeks were flushed almost as red as the remnants of her lipstick. Tears still poured down her cheeks, but her entire face shone with happiness.

When the applause trailed off and the cast took their absolutely final bow, Lorraine turned to Spencer and smiled. Her eye makeup had run a bit and she had maybe three spots of lipstick left, but he smiled at her. Honestly, he found her quite attractive!

"Shall we?" he prompted, watching people file past row M up the left-side center aisle.

Lorraine nodded vigorously, gave one last hearty sniffle, and allowed him to lead her back out of the row. He kept hold of her hand as they wove together through the crowd. People milled about in the vast lobby, buying T-shirts and wands and decorated programs. A couple of the Ozian ensemble members had made an appearance. The group of teenage girls had approached one of them and Lorraine stopped Spencer short before he walked into their picture. The little group smiled at him as he and Lorraine passed and she beamed back at them.

The two of them looked around at the giant lobby one more time and it sparkled back. Lorraine declined the offer to look at souvenirs, claiming the last thing she needed was one more T-shirt. Spencer stretched his long arms up over his head and Lorraine wrinkled her nose at the grinding noise his shoulder made. He let them drop back down and flexed his right hand, his knuckles appreciating the freedom of movement.

Lorraine couldn't stop talking about the performance they had just seen. At the top of her voice, she compared the virtues of Idina Menzel, Kristin Chenoweth, and the young ladies in this performance. Spencer decided it was best to listen at this point, contemplating several things at once. She had just gotten to the quality of Menzel's diction when she stopped short, in words and motion.

"Do you want to get some dessert?" she asked very suddenly. "I didn't eat earlier and I don't really feel like a heavy dinner."

Spencer's brow furrowed for a moment and he considered this option for a moment. That cold ravioli seemed like it had been yesterday or even further back in time. He let out a "_hmm_" as they kept on walking back towards the shuttle stop.

"That actually sounds like a good idea," he agreed pleasantly. "Did you have anything specific in mind?"

Lorraine tapped her chin in thought and Spencer got a good look at her hands. Her fingernails were still unusually long, but now they were painted brilliant, metallic silver. Her other hand scraped ungracefully but naturally at a smear of mascara under her right eye. This time, she made the "_hmm_" sound and contemplated for another moment.

"Ever had gelato?" she asked.

"No," he told her. "Is there a particular place you want to go for it?"

Her face brightened up again.

"Yeah, there's this little tiny place over by where the Espresso Bean is!" Her energy had returned, but she was no longer shouting, nor did she seem manic. "It's like a hole in the wall – if you blink, you miss it – but it's the cutest thing!"

They boarded the shuttle again without incident. It seemed they couldn't get away from the group of teenagers, now all singing together. The mother had apparently ceased attempting to calm the group. "Defying Gravity" rang through the entire bus, the girls uncaring of older folks' stares. Lorraine returned to her study of the windows as the bus rattled along and stayed quiet. Spencer followed her gaze, observing the darkened Capitol.

"Please remain seated until the bus has come to a complete stop," announced the shuttle's driver. "And stay clear of the doors as they open and close."

A recording, presumably the same two phrases in Spanish, followed this announcement. The teenage girls fell deeply into a fit of giggles, this time joined in laughter by the mother. Lorraine repeated, in perfect Spanish, _"Please stand clear of the doors,"_ and laughed softly to herself.

"Is the Spanish funny?" Spencer inquired, puzzled.

"Only because of how many times I went to Disneyworld as a kid," replied Lorraine. "It's what they say every time the Monorail stops."

"I've never been," Spencer commented, his voice slightly quieter than before.

Lorraine's eyes went wide.

"That's so sad!" she exclaimed. "Well, I'll fix that!"

This time Spencer's eyes went wide as moons.

"Dude, it was a joke," she reassured.

The bus rolled easily to a complete stop and the teenage girls, followed by the mother (patient as a saint) tottered out again. Clutching onto each other, they sang and howled with laughter as if drunk. A half-dozen more people followed them off. Spencer stood and extended his hand, his right hand, to Lorraine again. His knuckles still hadn't forgiven him, but he led her off anyway.


	3. I Feel Wicked

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of the characters on the show. I do own Dr. Lorraine Quinn. If you want to borrow her, please ask me. I don't do entertaining disclaimers – the entertainment is the fic!**_

_**Author's Note: I don't really know much about this place (Alexandria, VA), so if I get something wrong, don't flame. Also, writing this is making me miss my bestest friend in the whole freaking wide world. Her name on here is kchan88 and you should all go read her Criminal Minds/House crossover. I read it and it's effing fantastic!**_

I Feel Wicked

They got off the Metro back in Alexandria. Lorraine had continued talking Spencer's ear off, but this time, he actually had things to say back! He had genuinely enjoyed the show and he started to warm to her blue streak. True, he didn't have much experience with musicals, but she certainly did. They walked along, arguing in good nature the values of opera versus musical theater. He had only ever been exposed to opera as a stage art. She had been in several opera performances as an undergrad, but her love was musical theater.

"Dude, I love opera just as much as the next gal, but there's something special about Mary Martin as Peter Pan!" she insisted, her volume escalating again.

"Never seen it," said Spencer. He opened his mouth to follow that up, but an earsplitting squeal cut him off.

"I have two copies! You can borrow one if you like," she speed-chattered. "Wait, never mind, you can come over and watch it sometime!"

Spencer smiled again and, after a moment's consideration of his schedule, agreed to the invite. Of course, he had read the original play, and seen pieces of the Disney version. Lorraine made a "_pfft!_" sound and started to rant on how Tinkerbell was originally stage lighting. Spencer drew back a bit at her vehement yell of "_stage lighting!_" But she returned to neutral volume in a moment, smiling again. He started to wonder if this young lady emitted some undiscovered pheromone that made it physically impossible to frown around her.

Lorraine took hold of his hand again as they walked, pulling him a little faster along the sidewalk. The smell of wood fire floated through the air and the tiki torches at the Espresso Hut flickered merrily. Spencer had to suppress a rather large shudder as they passed the bamboo-fenced verandah. Lorraine waved happily to the staff and regular patrons, who greeted her in return.

"Bit late at night for an espresso, isn't it, sweetie?" teased the same blonde man who had first waited on Spencer.

"Oh, I'm on my way to Marlene's!" she called back. "But thanks, Bobby!"

"Marlene's?" asked Spencer, deliberately not making eye contact with anyone vaguely close to the Espresso Hut. "Is it new?"

Lorraine's eyes lit up again – Spencer noticed that they did that every time she had a subject of interest brought to her attention.

"Oh, no, it's been there for as long as I can remember," she told him. "Just wait until you see the inside of it!"

As they continued down the street that ran alongside the Espresso Hut, he felt no need to tell her he couldn't even see the outside of it. Lorraine seemed to know full well where they were going. The whole street seemed to be lined with tiny eateries, most of them dessert-themed. He felt himself almost starting to drool at the smells of brewing coffee, melting chocolate, and baking cake. Still holding his hand, Lorraine seemed to bounce with each step. Okay, no, that was just the bodice of her dress. She caught him looking and he turned scarlet.

"Marlene's is over there!" she pointed, pulling him across the street at a raised crosswalk. "They have the best gelato of anywhere I've ever been!"

Sheldon, who had never had gelato, decided not to get his eardrums broken again and obediently followed her. This time it was Lorraine who got to the door first, pulling at the large brass knob and yanking the door open. An old-fashioned overhanging doorbell clanged sweetly. Sheldon stepped in and closed the thick wooden door behind them, looking around at Marlene's.

It was as if they had just stepped back somewhere between fifty and a hundred years in time. The entire interior was done in positively ancient-looking wood. No two surfaces matched. The bar looked like it had been transplanted in from a pirate ship or something, inlaid with obsidian. Several mismatched rugs in varying craft styles littered the floor. A large, dark bookshelf stood tilted in one corner, stacked haphazardly with a variety of books. Someone had set a stack of squashy cushions by the bookshelf, with no two patterns even vaguely alike.

"I think they rescued the light fixtures from an estate sale." Lorraine pointed at the intricate wrought-iron. "And the gelato bins are actually in an old jewelry carousel that they gutted and had re-worked."

Spencer looked around the cozily untidy dessert joint for a moment, allowing Lorraine to usher him up to the counter.

"Hi, welcome to Marlene's!" said a petite girl with long braids and a Jamaican accent. "What can I do for you?"

Lorraine nudged Spencer forward, saying she wanted to have a look first.

"I'll just go with your basic chocolate, in medium please," he told the young lady. "Could I maybe get some marshmallows on that?"

"Sure, I'll get that started for ya!" She smiled pleasantly, flicked one braid over her shoulder and scooted away to work with the gelato. "Have you decided, ma'am?"

Lorraine tapped her chin in thought, and then her eyes lit up.

"I'm going to have to have that double-dark chocolate with a swirl of chocolate syrup on top," she said proudly.

"What size?" asked the young lady.

"I'll get the small," answered Lorraine.

"I'll get that going straight-away," the server told her, reaching for the scoops and dishing up the two gelatos ambidextrously. "It'll be 8.95 for both."

They thanked her and Spencer pulled out his wallet.

"Oh for heaven's sakes, I can get my own gelato!" protested Lorraine, fishing through her own purse.

"No, I've got it," counter-protested Spencer, trying to bat her hand away from her clutch. "You got the Wicked tickets, after all."

"Doesn't count!" she declared. "I already had those!"

"Just let me get this, okay?" wheedled Spencer. "If for no other reason than so I don't feel like a jerk?"

Lorraine sighed in mock-exasperation and threw her hands up dramatically.

"All right, all right!" she consented. "But just this once – my mom always taught me that a real lady can pay her own way!"

"And my mother read me the Canterbury Tales!" Spencer fired back amiably. "Chivalry, knights in armor-"

"Nuns having sex?" Lorraine cut in mischievously.

With Lorraine distracted, Spencer handed the Jamaican girl his debit card.

"Thank you, sir!" She slid the card, handed it back, and steadied the receipt for him to sign. "You two are welcome to any seat in the place. I'll bring you your order in a moment."

Lorraine led Spencer over to a bar-height table with a wrought-iron bottom stem and two matching barstools. With a hop and a hand up from Spencer, Lorraine settled on the soft leather seat. He sat with much more ease, one foot on the ground and the other heel on the foot-bar. A moment passed with the both of them listening to the store's radio. Hawai'ian ukulele twanged happily through the air.

"So you're a chocolate fan too?" Lorraine asked, apropos of nothing at all.

Spencer smiled again, once more feeling as if the expression happened out of his control.

"Well, if I can't have coffee, it at least takes the caffeine edge off," he told her. "The marshmallows, well… I really like sweet things."

For some reason that failed to dawn on Spencer, Lorraine turned scarlet and stared at a knot in the cherry-wood surface. After a second of indecipherable mumbling and hand-wringing, she looked back up at him. He tilted his head at her still-berry-red cheeks.

"I think you're sweet too!" she blurted out.

"Oh!" spluttered Spencer. "Well, thanks!"

He had been about to mention how he was just talking about the marshmallows, but caught himself before sticking his foot in his mouth. Lorraine's face turned several shades darker and he felt his cheeks heating too. Spencer looked over to the bookshelf, trying to disguise his deepening blush. It didn't work – Lorraine simply leaned a little closer.

"You're blushing," she said quietly, a hint of a giggle in her voice.

Before he could make an excuse or anything, the young lady with the braids appeared with two cups of wonderful on a tray.

"Okay, I've got one 'basic' chocolate with marshmallows – I hope I put enough on?" she asked and announced at the same time. Spencer nodded and the young lady set the medium cup in front of him. "And a double-dark chocolate with chocolate syrup – are these both all right for ya?"

They both gave affirmative answers and thanked the young lady again. Spencer looked down at the eating utensil that had come with the gelato – a most peculiar thing, he decided. It looked like a small, translucent-orange plastic beach shovel. Lorraine had a similar utensil, only hers was translucent blue, like Jell-O. She had already tucked happily into her smooth, creamy chocolate. A touch of chocolate syrup decorated the middle of her lower lip, the red lipstick just about gone. He waited for a moment before taking a bite of his own dessert, but then he died.

No, wait, he just thought he had gone to chocolate-and-marshmallow heaven! This stuff, this _gelato_, was the creamiest, most wonderful, beautiful, decadent, angelic thing he had ever tasted in his thirty years of life! He took another bite, almost more than the little plastic spoon-shovel could handle. Then he scooped in another and cringed as he experienced the sensation of brain-freeze. But the brain-freeze didn't matter! He had just attained dessert nirvana. Somewhere, the chocolate Dalai Lama was smiling!

Lorraine smiled and continued savoring her own mound of double-dark chocolate with its swirls of chocolate syrup. Hmm… How would it taste with marshmallows? She wondered briefly. A mischievous smirk crossed her chocolate-smeared lips. An inch at a time, she sneaked her hand, the one with the spoon in it, across the table. Spencer had his eyes closed after another gigantic chocolate-and-marshmallow bite. She was only a tiny bit away when-

"I don't think so!" Spencer had blocked her spoon with his own as quickly as he might strike with a sword.

"Oh, I reckon I can take you on!" she retaliated playfully, taking another stab at his bowl – he parried her again. "I _will _have a bite of that!"

"Normally I wouldn't fight a lady, but you're making it very difficult to keep my own rule!" Spencer teased back. "This is _my _gelato!"

"Look over there!" Lorraine pointed over to the corner.

"Oh please!" The profiler rolled his eyes. "You really think- What in the world could that be!"

Lorraine poked his hand with her own spoon, stole the largest marshmallow she could reach, and quickly scooped up a bite. She grinned at him like a Cheshire cat and they both burst out laughing. Spencer held up his free hand, indicating that he knew he'd lost. Then he returned to his own gelato, playfully sulking over the loss of his marshmallow. Whole minutes passed in companionable silence, with both of them taking large, decadent bites.

"You know," Lorraine said after another moment and another bite. "This is what my grandfather says is the sound of good food."

Spencer nodded through his own bite, knowing exactly what she meant. Smiles and silence were indeed the sounds of good food. Angelique Kidjo played over the speaker system as they continued with their eating. After another good ten minutes, they were almost finished. Not wanting to waste a single lovely taste, they scraped as best they could with their plastic spoons at their cups. Finally, Lorraine pushed her cup forward a bit – Spencer followed suit a moment later.

The Jamaican girl bid them both good-night as the bell on the door jingled again and they stepped out into t he night. This time, Spencer reached out to hold Lorraine's hand as they walked to the bus stop. He had insisted on seeing her back to her apartment. It wasn't that he didn't think she could handle herself, but his job had made him a touch paranoid. She smiled at him, yawned widely, and leaned her head on his shoulder as they sat quietly on the bus.

"Please remain seated until the bus has come to a complete stop," the driver announced when the bus pulled up to the stop close to Lorraine's apartment. "Watch your step and have a good night."

Spencer stepped down first, keeping Lorraine's hand in his, and helped her down for the last time that night. She pointed up the street, leading him towards her complex, one with pretty little gas lights on brick pedestals. The night guard buzzed them in and they took the walk to her front door slowly. She lived fairly far back in the complex, a pretty, well-landscaped place. The apartments looked more like duplex houses than normal city apartments.

"One day, I want to have a house," she told him. "A big one, maybe something historical, with a fenced yard – I think that would make Hawkeye happy."

"Out of curiosity, how do you fit a dog that big into an apartment at all?" asked Spencer.

"Oh, he's just kind of like a spare couch!" She smiled, but he saw a touch of wistfulness on her face. "Well, this is me."

Her apartment had a rather overgrown rose bush in front of it, almost covering the window. The mat on the step said "Wipe your paws" and was decorated with flocked black paw prints. An antique metal milk jug stood next to the mat, full of water, presumably from the last time it had rained. They could both hear a loud "WUFF!" from Hawkeye inside. Lorraine fished through her clutch purse and retrieved a cluster of keys and key-chains, fiddling with the thing for a moment.

"I had a wonderful time," she said, her voice all of a sudden soft and shy. "Do you… maybe want to get together again sometime?"

Spencer blushed, turning the same color as the roses on the overgrown bush.

"Isn't that what I'm supposed to say?" he asked, quirking one eyebrow. The effect was lost somewhat with his near-purple cheeks. "But to answer your question, yes. Yes I would."

"So… what happens now?" She looked up at him, blushing so hard he feared it might bruise her cheeks. Hawkeye barked again. "Cool it, furbag!"

Flinching from her sudden, loud outburst, Spencer shrugged. Biting his lip, he paused for a second, and then started to lean in slowly. Lorraine blushed even darker, her eyes falling half-closed. Swallowing hard, he felt his mouth go dry inside, but that might not be such a bad thing. He had enough experience to know how this was supposed to go…

And then his lips made contact with soft skin – he had kissed her cheek! Abruptly, he pulled back, his eyes wide and his face eggplant-colored once again. He cast about wildly for something to say.

"Did… did I do something wrong?" he blurted out.

"No, no! Of course not!" Lorraine assured him. "I just don't kiss on the first date."

"Fair enough," said Spencer, feeling a tad wrong-footed. "Well, good night!"

Lorraine stuck the front door key, with a bunny-rabbit key topper, in the lock and twisted it hard.

"Good night!" she told him, smiling in brilliant shyness. "Give me a call sometime!"

She opened the front door, shoved Hawkeye back with her knee, and they exchanged a second round of good-nights. Spencer sighed after the front door closed, said a soft "good night" to the door itself, and turned away. With his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the light-polluted sky, he started off.

Behind her front curtain, Lorraine watched him go. Hawkeye drooled happily on the secondhand rug on the hardwood floor. She scratched him absentmindedly behind one fluffy ear. In about a minute, Spencer was out of sight. Lorraine turned back to face Hawkeye, who snuffled in a friendly manner. She pried her shoes off and curled her toes in and out a few times. Hawkeye sniffed the shoes and continued wagging his furry tail.

"So whatcha think, big guy?" she asked the giant dog. "Is he a nice guy?"

She let the dog sniff her hand, wiping his drool on the backside of her dress – it needed washing anyway. Hawkeye hopped up onto the well-loved couch, leaving more black and white hair on the fuzzy blue surface. Lorraine followed, flopping down next to her furry buddy. He licked her face, which also got wiped on her dress, and wagged his tail after sniffing her hand again.

"Yeah, I thought so too," she told him, running her fingers through his long, fluffy hair. "Was it a bad move not to let him kiss me? I mean, he seemed a little shy, but I hope I didn't hurt his feelings!"

Hawkeye panted, his big pink tongue lolling out as he turned wet brown eyes on his human mama. He crossed his gigantic paws, tail still wagging, and set his head down on said paws. A huge sneeze sprayed her stockings with an enormous amount of dog snot, causing her to squeal in mock-disgust.

"Ewwy!" she exclaimed. "Puppy sneeze!"

He picked his head back up and gave her a jowly, drooling puppy-smile.

"You're a good boy, Hawkeye!"

She smiled back and rumpled the fluff on top of his head affectionately.

"So should I see him again?" she asked the giant. The back of the couch all of a sudden flinched and she looked up to see a huge, furry gray-and-white cat. "Hey Everett – how's my kitty-boy?"

The cat meowed at her, swishing his tail.

"Yeah, I thought so," she said. "Kitty hates everybody."

She laid back on the couch, propping her feet up on one arm and laying her head on Hawkeye.

"You know what, fellas?" she asked both of them. "I never thought I'd be able to say this, but tonight, for the first time… I feel wicked!"

She paused and fell off the couch laughing, both animals staring at her like she had gone insane.


End file.
